


Advanced Homicide

by rustyliver



Series: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun [4]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 11:10:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10661349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustyliver/pseuds/rustyliver
Summary: Sameen keeps them safe by joining clubs, making friends, and turning in assignments on time.Root, in turn, keeps them safe by keeping her ears and eyes open to any unusual interest towards anything pertaining their previous victims.Set before Old Habits Die Hard.





	Advanced Homicide

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty tame as compared to previous stories in this series but to be safe, this work contains implied violence, murderous intent, stalking, and non-consensual administration of drugs. 
> 
> This is probably the last thing I'll ever write for this series. It is the most fun I've had writing a fanfic, and I hope you've had as much fun as me reading it. Thank you for all the support.

Sameen is having a lively chat with the TA at the front, and Root just watches. Interest is a rare look on Sameen. Sure, she fakes it sometimes, usually out of necessity, but this isn't one of those times. She is well and truly smitten by the TA.

The TA is the first to notice Root at the back.

"Can I help you?" the TA asks.

"Just waiting on my friend," Root tells her, pointing at Sameen.

Sameen turns around, a tight smile on her face. Instead of shooing Root away, she says in a polite tone, "Sorry, I didn't know you were waiting. I thought we were going to meet at the dorm."

Wow, she really likes this girl.

"Well, I am," Root says. "Can we go?"

Sameen glares at her, but the TA can't see it. "Jane," she says, retaining the politeness in her tone, fake as it is, "I still have a few questions to ask Joss. I will make it up to you. I promise."

Root grins. She can't say it isn't tempting to accept Sameen's offer, but at the same time, watching Sameen squirm in front of someone she is interested in is one of Root's favorite pastimes.

But before she could choose, the choice is made for her.

"Actually, Sameen," the TA says, checking her watch, "I have to run across campus to meet my advisor. It's not easy to get an appointment with him. Come see me during my office hours. We can resume our discussion then."

Before Sameen can get a word out, the TA is out the door.

"So," Root says, "she's cute."

.

Of course Root doesn't actually think that the TA is cute, but it annoys the hell out of Sameen when she calls them — Sameen's flings — cute. According to Sameen, the term cute should only be reserved for things that one might want to cuddle with, and Sameen isn't the cuddliest person in the world. In fact, she frequently insists that the last thing she wants to do with another human being is to cuddle with them.

(Except with Tomas. She probably cuddled a lot with him, considering how long they had dated before an apprenticeship at a famous winery outside of Barcelona fell into his lap, which Root definitely did not have anything to do with.)

Instead of the huff that Root finds so adorable on Sameen, she gets a dreamy faraway look. "Isn't she?" Sameen sighs.

And Root finds herself panicking before laughter bursts out of Sameen.

"Don't worry," Sameen says. "I'm just interested in her brain."

"What do you mean?" Root asks.

"It's finally time for me to graduate," Sameen replies, "and I want to do a really good job for these last few credits."

"Sameen…" Root says. "Isn't this a forensic psychology course?"

"Yup," Sameen mutters, gathering up her stationery and notebook into her backpack.

Root knows that there isn't anyone else in the room, but she looks around before lowering her voice, "You know why."

Sameen shakes her head, eyebrows crinkling. "Do you really think that I'd be stupid enough to turn in something that might expose us?"

"It isn't your intelligence that I'm worried about," Root says. "It's that of your professor."

"What about him?" Sameen asks.

"Have you read his book?"

"Which one?" Sameen says, playing dumb.

"Any one of them," Root replies. "He seems to have devoted a lot of time studying serial murderers. It pays off, and I don't just mean in his royalty pay checks. He has more than a few revealing insights on the people he studies."

Sameen exhales. "I know. Why do you think I registered for this class?" She hangs the strap of her backpack onto one shoulder.

"Is it because you think that he might be able to provide insights into us?" Root asks.

"No," Sameen answers. "He seems to get off on people who have troubled backgrounds. You and I had relatively normal childhoods."

Root arches an eyebrow at her.

"I said _relatively_ ," Sameen adds.

Root had wanted to ask, "Then, why did you risk exposing us to one of the world's most renowned experts on criminal psychology?" But she knows that Sameen has already weighed the risk and decided that it was worth taking.

Root just waits for Sameen to provide an answer on her own.

"We need to know how to cover our asses," Sameen eventually says.

"Are you sure? Because I think I could be a lot happier if you don't know."

Root grins, and Sameen rolls her eyes.

"Root," Sameen says, "I don't want to have to take another year off to go traipsing across Europe."

"But you had so much fun," Root says, barely supressing her sarcasm. "Remember all those 'friendly' locals you met in every single place we visited? How excited you were about getting to know them _intimately_. And you got to see Tomas like you wanted."

"I never said it wasn't," Sameen says, "but 'backpacked across Europe' and 'murder' can't be the only two things in my resume. I want to have an actual job — one of us has to — and for that to happen, I need a degree. That can't happen if I keep taking time off school."

"Why didn't you say so?" Root says. "I can have one for you tomorrow. What kind of degree do you want? A BSc or a BA? Or do you want something more specialized? Like a BEng?"

"No, Root," Sameen sighs. "I want to earn it."

"Fair enough," Root mutters. "But what does that have to do with your professor?"

"I thought I could learn from him what not to do," Sameen says. "You know, the things that got the people who did what we do caught. But it doesn't look like that it's happening anytime soon."

"Why?" Root asks.

"He has never shown up to class," Shaw answers. "That TA you met just now — Joss Carter — she's the one who has been teaching the class."

...

Root has a secret.

She, too, like Sameen, is concerned with their well-being.

That isn't the secret. Or at least, she doesn't think that it is a secret. She definitely hasn't made any attempt at hiding it. Though, whether or not Sameen notices it is anyone's guess.

In fact, 'resuming' her tertiary education in this particular university isn't some random choice (like she might have lead Sameen to believe). No, she chose this place because there is a person she wants to meet, and that person is none other than Sameen's absentee professor, Harold Finch.

Despite his celebrity status as a bestselling author and numerous TV appearances, Harold Finch is a difficult man to find. Root thought that, perhaps, if she enrols into the school where the man teaches, she would finally meet him. Unfortunately, that hasn't been the case.

After reading his books, she became an instant fan of his. But her reason for wanting to meet him isn't some school girl adoration. She is just not the type of fan who cares to meet her idol. It is easier to adore a person from afar than face to face.

No, Root wants to meet him because she suspects that he is as much a fan of hers as she is his.

Sameen keeps them safe by joining clubs, making friends, and turning in assignments on time. She goes to parties when she is invited, and participates some of the events that one would find on notice boards around campus. While Root thinks that she does enjoy some of these activities, she doesn't think that Sameen would do as much if she doesn't have to. There are probably some things that she would never do if it isn't important that she and Root have the appearance of normal college roommates, like rushing a sorority or being part of that very entertaining car wash organized by a girl she dated who had a lot of strong opinions about a lot of things.

Root, in turn, keeps them safe by keeping her ears and eyes open to any unusual interest towards anything pertaining their previous victims. She discovered one several months ago while in Amsterdam, alone without Sameen who was visiting Tomas, in the form of persistent requests for information on murder cases, made under the name Harold Finch, for academic purposes. Not all of them were Root and Sameen's handiwork, but there was enough requested to suggest that Professor Finch might know something.

Except now, Root thinks that it isn't the professor who has been sniffing around for their scent.

...

People like Joss Carter live by a certain code of conduct. It isn't one of those things that you raise your hand to recite or put a hand on a bible to swear to abide. It isn't a list written down somewhere that you can refer back to in times of doubt. It is one of those things that some people just know while others have to learn it, but despite its ambiguous nature, people like Joss Carter follow their code of conduct to a T.

The red in Root's hands is far too bright for her to deny that she has a taste for blood, but so far, she has justified it by taking the lives of only those who have proved themselves to be unworthy of breathing — people who have contributed to the deterioration of the world instead of its betterment.

Joss doesn't qualify due to her silly code of conduct, which is a shame. Root will still enjoy taking her breath away, but the guilt that comes after might be a little more cumbersome than Root is used to.

Root isn't too worried about herself. She knows that sooner or later she will have to completely shed the identity of Samantha Groves, which isn't a huge sacrifice to her. She has wanted to destroy Samantha Groves ever since she lost Hanna, but she knows that Sameen wants to keep her name and the identity that comes with it.

Sameen Shaw was the childhood friend of Samantha Groves. It is a weak link — there are numerous witnesses who can testify to their growing estrangement as they grew older — but it is a link nonetheless. So, whether she likes it or not, Root has to protect Samantha Groves's name, which means anyone who can link her victims to Sam Groves must be eliminated.

Unfortunately, that includes a certain forensic science grad student who might be writing a thesis on her, even if she can't find a single bad thing on them (not even a parking ticket).

"Do you…" Sameen hesitates, grinding her teeth. She exhales, "Is there something you need to talk about?"

Root tilts her head, brows crinkling. "Do you?"

"No." Sameen shakes her head. "You just seem kind of distracted lately. Is there someone new that you might be interested in?"

Root's lips curl into a curious smile. "You never ask about my hobby."

"It never occurred to me before that I would have to ask," Sameen replies.

Root slides her bottom to the other end of the couch. "I would rather do this one on my own."

"Since when?" Sameen asks, muting the TV. She turns her waist so her upper body is facing Root.

"Since your big talk about embarking into a new stage of your life," Root answers.

Sameen huffs. "I was drunk."

"You know what they say about intoxication…" Root trails off.

"Yeah, people say and do stupid things when they're drunk," Sameen says.

Root shakes her head. "They say things they hold back when they're sober."

"Sometimes," Shaw retorts. "But that wasn't one of those times. I am waist deep in this with you. I'm not just going to walk out. That isn't the kind of person I am."

"There is nothing I want more, sweetie," Root says. She leans forward, her hand reaching up to Sameen's face. She traces a thumb gently down to Sameen's chin and spreads her fingers over Sameen's cheek. "But I also want you to do the things that you want to do, just as you have allowed me to do mine."

Sameen kisses her. It is a quick and simple kiss, but as all of Sameen's kisses do, it melts every single bone in Root's body, turning her body into jello.

(It is the best description that Root can give in her present condition.)

Easily, Sameen pushes her to lean back against the couch. She unmutes the TV and lays her head on Root's lap.

"I'll think about it," she mutters.

.

It was a difficult conversation that Root never wanted to have, but she had to start it for Sameen's sake. Now she is scared to death that Sameen will accept her offer.

Stupid. She should have left it alone.

Root doesn't drink, but tonight she is. She ordered one of those fruity cocktails. You can still taste the bitter alcohol despite the various flavourings that were mixed into the drink, and she becomes amused at the deceptive depth that people are willing to fall into in order to get inebriated.

She giggles.

Tonight she is one of those people.

She waves over the barkeep.

"Another one of whatever this is," she yells. "And top up whatever it is that pretty lady is drinking."

"I'll take the drink," pretty lady says, "but I'm going straight home after this." Root winks, and pretty lady shakes her head, mumbling, "Never do that again."

"No worries," Root tells her. "The drink comes with no expectations. I just want to have a drink with a friend."

"I don't know you."

"My name is Jane," Root says. "Now you know me. Are we friends now?"

"You don't know me."

"I do know you," Root says and quickly covers her mouth. "Am I not supposed to say that? I think I'm not supposed to say that. Sameen says…"

"Right. You're Sameen's friend."

"And you're Sameen's teacher, Joss Carter." Root beams, "Are we friends now?"

"No," Joss replies, raising her refilled glass of whiskey? "But I'll drink with you."

Root raises her glass too. "To Sameen."

Joss chuckles, but she echoes Root. "To Sameen."

.

"Which one is you?"

"Have I told you how pretty you are?"

"Multiple times tonight."

"You're pretty."

"I know. Now focus, Jane. What's your apartment number?"

"3E."

"Jane, there's no 3E."

Root laughs. "Because I don't live here."

"Are you serious?" Joss huffs.

"As a heart attack," Root answers, grinning at Joss.

Joss isn't as amused as Root. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she sighs, "Jane, I really need you to tell me where you live."

Root slips her arm around Joss's. "But we had so much fun," she mutters, resting her head on Joss's shoulder. "Mmm, you smell pretty too."

"That's called shampoo," Joss says in a resigned tone. "Fine," she exhales. "You can spend the night at my apartment, but only because I have an early class tomorrow."

"Yay," Root squeals.

"I should warn you that I have a gun," Joss says. "I won't tell you where it is, but if you're thinking of taking advantage of my kindness, a bullet _will_ end up in one of your vital organs. I am a forensic scientist; I know where those are."

Root puts a hand over her heart. Nope, her heart is on the other side. "I will not cause you harm."

She's not. Not tonight anyway.

"And this face," Root adds, jutting her lower lip out, "cannot be the face of a murderer."

"You'd be surprised," Joss mutters. "Usually it's the cute non-threatening types who are the most fucked up people."

Well, she's not wrong.

"Hee," Root giggles. "You think I'm cute."

"And possibly a serial killer."

"A _cute_ serial killer."

Joss rolls her eyes. "Okay, player. Let's get you to bed so you can sleep off all the stupid you chugged tonight."

...

"Heeeyyy…"

"Where are you?"

"In a blanket."

"Okay, let's try that again, and this time you better give me an address or specific coordinates to your location, or I swear to god—"

"You have a really nice teacher, Sameen."

"Root."

Root sighs; she loves it when Sameen's voice goes all husky from wanting to maintain some semblance of coolness when she is so clearly exasperated by Root's actions.

Sameen clears her throat. "I need you to focus. What did you do?"

"I had a great night with Joss," Root answers.

"So why did you call me?"

"Aren't you jealous?"

"No, that's not how we work," Sameen says, "and that's not why you called."

"It's not?" Root gasps. "Sameen," she lowers her voice into a whisper, "can you read my mind?"

"No, but you sent me an S.O.S an hour ago. I was…"

"You were worried for me," Root squeals. "How sweet."

"I can't find you anywhere. Root, where are you?"

"I love it when you say my name," Root murmurs.

"Focus," Sameen tells her. "If you can't tell me your exact address, how about landmarks?"

"I'm at Joss's."

"She took you home?"

"Don't sound so surprised. I have game too."

"Yeah, a girl brought you home and somehow, instead of fucking her, you're talking to me. Teach me your ways, sensei."

"I can't go home."

"Why?"

"Someone was following us."

.

As soon as Root hangs up, she hears the lock turn. Some part of her regrets how much she drank — it was reckless; she should have figured the one night she let her guard down, some asshole decides to stalk her.

Another part of her is intrigued; she has never been on this side of a break in before. She always wondered what that would be like. Her only problem is Joss. Joss is hers — she can't let some careless guy get his grubby hands on her — but Root can barely stand as it is; she is not in the position to be a knight in oversized t-shirt for anyone.

She will just have to wait for Sameen to come.

.

"You are going to pay for this," Mr Man tells Joss, pointing at the shiner she gifted him. It turns out that Joss has no need for knights. She is already a warrior herself.

Root is still hiding in Joss's closet. She had thought that she might need to surprise their surprise visitor, but Joss was already awake when Root tried to sneak into her room. She was the one who told Root to hide in the closet, and Root, while usually not amenable to direct commands, complies without any complaints.

Joss smirks. "You can try."

It is a night full of surprises. Root had thought that Mr Man was after her, but apparently he is after Joss for the very same reason that Root is trying to build a rapport with her. Unlike Root, however, Mr Man with his man brain thought it better to disappear their mutual problem by force.

It hasn't worked out for him thus far.

Still, he hasn't given up. He charges forward, and she dodges him easily before sending a swift kick to his crotch. Mr Man yelps, hunching over. Root can see clear as day the badge hanging on his belt.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," Joss tells him. "You were supposed to protect people, but instead, you hurt them."

Officer Man laughs. "Why'd you think I applied for the job?"

Not a second later, he is kissing the floor.

"You can come out now," Joss announces. "He's going be out a while."

...

"Waiting on Sameen again?"

"I probably shouldn't tell you this but she skipped your class."

"I figured. She wasn't at her usual seat."

"I'm here to talk to you about—"

"What happened the other night."

"What happened the other night?"

"Maybe not here."

.

Some people think that small talk is artificial and unnecessary, but Root disagrees. To her, it's a handy tool. If you know what you're doing, it disarms the person you are speaking to—makes them feel safer about sharing some of their self with you. Even if that self isn't shared with words, you can read it in their body language.

As much as Root would like to practice the techniques that she has spent years perfecting on Joss, it is simply not the time for small talk at the moment. So she sits across from Joss and waits for the explanation that she is owed.

Joss doesn't seem ready to offer it to her, stalling by asking the waiter about each item on the menu before finally asking for the waiter's recommendation. The waiter's lips twitch at the question, but Joss just stares at her with an innocent expectant gaze.

The waiter clears her throat and points at a dish that has a picture of a chef's hat next to it.

"I'll have one of that then," Joss says and then turns her head to Root.

"I'll have the same thing," Root replies.

"Drinks?"

"Water," they both say at the same time.

Joss meets Root's eyes easily once the waiter leaves, the reluctance in her features no longer visible. She smiles, and Root smiles back, not knowing what else to do.

"You've become awfully shy," Joss points out.

"I have asked my question," Root replies. "It's your turn now."

"Can I start with a story?" Joss doesn't wait for Root to answer. "I'll start with a story. Once upon a time, there was a girl who had something terrible happen to her. In fact, it was something so terrible that it caused her trauma."

"Psychological or physical?" Root quips.

"It's the kind that changes someone, and it changed her. Something violent grew inside of her. Maybe she tried to keep it contained for a few years, but eventually, it clawed its way out and killed her first victim."

"Sounds like a special girl."

"But she's conflicted; she knows taking another person's life is not her right. Maybe she even feels guilty about it. So she doesn't kill just anyone; her victims must meet a certain criteria."

"And what might that be?"

"I think she kills those she deems unworthy of life."

"Don't most murderers feel that way?"

"Her reasons are moral adjacent."

"She kills people who don't believe in climate change?"

"No, her targets are those whose crimes affect people in more obvious ways. Like murderers."

"A killer with a conscience. Interesting. Why haven't I heard anything about it?"

"No one knows yet."

"Except you?"

"She's careful about picking her victims— no one whose death or disappearance would make the headlines. I think she has someone to protect. If she goes too big, she might risk this person's safety."

Root swallows. "Joss, is there something you want to ask me?"

.

"Do the right thing," Joss's words echo in Root's head as she bursts into the apartment she shares with Sameen.

"Hey—"

Root doesn't stop to respond to the greeting. She goes straight to the bedroom. She pulls out a suitcase from the closet and starts to throw stuff into it; clothes, lotion, underwear, hangers. She pauses, then tosses out the hangers and the lotion—she can buy them wherever she's going. She stomps towards the bathroom and past a confused Sameen who just caught up to her at the bedroom door, but she backs out of the bathroom at the first step in—she can find a toothbrush anywhere in the world.

"Root," Sameen calls. "What is going on?"

"I have to leave," Root answers in haste as she nears the desk in the living room with all her equipment.

She crosses her arms, examining each equipment to assess its necessity. She won't need the speakers, and the monitors — she can use her pocket projector as a temporary monitor before she got new ones at her new home. She unscrews her desktop casing — does she bring everything or just the hard disk?

"Just you?" Sameen asks. "Not we?"

Root exhales. "Yes, Sameen. I think it's time for us to part ways."

"Why now?"

"Where's the screwdriver?" Root wonders aloud. Without waiting for an answer, she hurries towards the kitchen where the toolbox is kept in the cabinet under the sink.

Sameen follows behind her. "Root," she calls again.

Root heads back to the living room to remove the hard disk from the computer. Once that is done, she retrieves a hammer from the toolbox.

"Root!" Sameen cries out, grabbing Root's arm before the hammer in her hand could hit her precious machine. Sameen puts her palm over the hammer's head and carefully unpries Root's fingers from the handle. She doesn't let go of Root's hand as she sets the hammer back into the toolbox. Then she takes Root's other hand, the one that is tightly gripping the edge of the desk.

Sameen looks into Root's eyes, and Root wants to look away — this is too hard and it will be harder when she remembers that she is never going to look into those brown eyes again.

"Tell me what is going on," Sameen demands.

Root's heart wrenches painfully. It's too late now; she already knows what she is about to lose.

"Don't make me beg," she tells Sameen.

"You don't have to," Sameen replies. "You just have to tell me what is going on."

Root takes a deep breath. "When Tomas asked you to go to Barcelona with him, why did you refuse?"

"Because I wasn't going to uproot my life for some guy."

"Then a semester later, we ditched school to backpack across Europe."

"Where are you going with this?" Sameen asks.

"Do you regret the way that our fates have become so intertwined? Have you ever wanted to untangle yourself?"

"From you?"

Root nods.

"One," Sameen says, "there is no such thing as fate. So that question doesn't even make sense, but if I were to answer it, no. For both questions. And two, the choices I make do not hinge solely on you — I just consider you when making decisions, and so far, the things that I want to do align with your needs."

"But what if I told you that if you continue to make me apart of your decision making process, that is how it's going to be for the rest of your life? You cannot opt out. You will forever be tied to me."

"Are you proposing to me?"

"Please answer the question, Sameen."

.

Sameen doesn't choose. Instead, after Root was done explaining to her about Professor Finch's software, she tells Root, "Don't you dare move," and bolts out of the door.

Root complies for one whole minute. Then she shakes herself off the bed and picks up a single sock that was strewn on the floor along with the rest of her wardrobe— Sameen's work. She knows too well that while Root does get all hot and bothered when she uses her gravelly voice and could for a minute be stunned into inaction due to it, it wouldn't last longer than sixty seconds. So she made a mess that Root would have to sort out through in order to pack for wherever she might go next.

Root searches for the other sock among the pile of her things. She can't see much from up here so she crouches, squinting for the black that matches the sock in her left hand. The lowering of her eye level doesn't seem to do much in helping her find it; there is too much black in her choice of clothes that every piece seems to blend in together.

The hangover doesn't help; it's probably the main reason that Sameen had committed such a juvenile act— a lesson within a lesson within an intervention or something to that effect. The headache is gone but the world is still a little bit shaky especially when she stares at a spot or the same colour for too long. Maybe if she lays her head down for a little while, she could—

No, she has to pack but the floor is so…nice. Who knew that her clothes could make such comfortable pillows? Okay so maybe she can close her eyes for a second, and in another second, she will be up and packing, and in another minute, she will be in a car and on her way to the train station.

"Root."

"Just gimme," Root mutters. "Gimme a second."

"Root, you've been asleep for six hours."

"Six? But I just closed my eyes," Root whines. "How can it—" Fuck. Did she say that out loud? She really hopes that she said that out loud because, "That aspirin you gave me…"

"Yeah, that wasn't aspirin. I'm sorry," Sameen tells her. "But good news, we don't have to run anymore. At least not until the end of the semester. I took care of our problem."

Root forces her eyes open. "You killed Joss?"

"No," Sameen replies. "Well, I wanted to, but the weirdest thing happened."

She picks Root up from the floor and takes her to the bed. Once she has properly set Root on the bed, she lies herself down next to Root.

"Officer Simmons—" Sameen continues, raising one arm and propping her head up with it.

"Who?"

"The cop who attacked Joss Carter."

"Officer Man?"

"What?"

"Yes, I remember him."

"He was released."

"How?" Root asks.

"It turns out that he got a lot of connections," Sameen answers. "He got out and was supposed to leave town immediately, but instead—"

"Instead, he paid Joss a visit."

"Lucky for Carter, I was there. Long story short, I saved her life, she owed me, and I collected right away."

"I doubt it's that simple."

"Don't worry about it."

"I will," Root says, letting out a sigh. "I just don't have the energy right now."

"Okay," Sameen mutters, rolling over to her side to face Root. She stares at Root for a moment before speaking again, "You didn't tell me."

"Tell you what?" Root asks.

"That Carter thought it was me— the person she called the Traveling Butcher. That she didn't suspect your involvement at all. That she didn't think you even knew about the murders before she told you about them."

"It doesn't matter. One of us is compromised, both of us are."

"That's sweet, but you were gonna bail on me which I thought was kind of rude. For a second I thought that we were back in high school again— you whispering stuff about me to your friends."

"Sameen…"

"Then I found this thick envelope addressed to Carter containing Jane von Neumann's whole life."

"Sameen, I can expl—"

"I can't even begin to tell you how stupid that was. Do you know that she doesn't have a lick of evidence against us?"

"I know but—"

"Yeah yeah, their _machine_ or algorithm or whatever," Sameen huffs. "But do you really think that she and Finch can make the police arrest us because of what a computer says? What you almost did—" she inhales sharply. "If she couldn't get us for the murders, she would have gotten you on identity fraud, and that would have led her to your previous identities and all those missing persons at places we've been."

"That is not possible," Root says. "I was very meticulous about covering our tracks."

"It's nice that you're so confident, but then what?" Sameen asks. "Maybe you've done a good job at hiding all those people you've been, but Samatha Groves—she was real. What if Carter traces you back to her? You won't be able to go back."

"I was always ready to be a ghost," Root tells her. "But I know you're not. I didn't want to force you to make a choice just because I did."

"Well, maybe you should have talked to me about it before you—"

"I did," Root reminds Sameen. "Or at least I tried."

Sameen sighs. "Right. Okay, then. Let's talk."

"Not now," Root mutters, curling herself into Sameen, and Sameen rests her chin atop Root's head. "I'm still a little sleepy."

...

Sameen turns for the camera, and Root jumps, whooping. Root had made sure that she and Mrs Shaw got seats that are directly in Sameen's line of sight for this moment.

Between clapping, Mrs Shaw wipes her eyes. Root doesn't really understand why this whole ceremony is needed — Sameen certainly never bothered to explain; her only argument for it is, "It's a thing people do" — but she thinks she gets it now. Despite Sameen's narrowed eyes at her, head shaking at all the attention Root has attracted for her isolated cheer far away from Sameen's peers, Root's chest swells with joy and pride.

She knows how much Sameen had wanted that certificate that they're going to mail to her within five to eight weeks after the ceremony. She knows how hard Sameen had worked for it and the mastery for time management that Sameen had honed to balance between her studies and her extracurricular activity with Root, and witnessing Sameen obtain it, though more in a symbolic sense than a literal one, becomes one of Root's greatest moments in life.

Sameen tilts her head at her mother, and Mrs Shaw claps harder for her daughter.

Once Sameen has exited the stage and Root sits back on her chair, Mrs Shaw whispers to her, "When she kept transferring schools, I blamed you. So I think it would be unfair of me if I don't also blame you for this."

"You're welcome," Root replies.

After the ceremony, Root only watches from afar as Sameen introduces all of her friends to Mrs Shaw.

"Why don't you join them?"

Sameen's eyes catch Joss standing next to Root and her body tenses, but Root shakes her head at her, mouthing, "It's fine."

"Mrs Shaw already knows me," Root tells Joss.

"She should introduce you too," Joss says. "To her friends, I mean. Aren't you her girlfriend?"

"You were at the ceremony?" Root asks.

"Might have peeked."

"They already know me," Root says. "We don't…mix well."

"And you don't mind?" Joss asks.

"Well, she has her life and I have mine," Root answers.

"It doesn't have to do with the fact that she's not going to talk to any of those people after this?"

"Come on, detective," Root intones, aware of the way Joss's jaw set at the designation. "Does that look like a stone cold killer to you?"

Sameen is laughing at something one of her friends said, her arm linked with her mother's.

Joss sighs. "I'm giving you an out. Why won't you take it?"

"She is not the Traveling Butcher, or whatever you call them," Root tells Joss. "She saved your life, or did you forget that?"

"How could I?" Joss says. "You never let me forget."

"You know, I'm really going to miss this; you asking me to leave my girlfriend. For your sake, you should just confess your love for me. Once you've done that, it will be easier for you to move on from me."

Joss rolls her eyes. "You wish," she huffs and starts to walk away.

"No goodbye, detective?" Root asks.

Joss stops, turning her head. "Sooner or later, I'll catch her and when that time comes, I hope it won't be too late for you."

"You think she'll hurt me?"

"No, she will drag you into her shit before she does that. Then she'll discard you like you're nothing. She had partners before you, do you know that?" Joss tells Root.

"So you say."

"Maybe you should ask her what happened to them."

"Will do," Root replies with a grin.

Joss pushes her sunglasses up on her nose and sends a two finger salute at Sameen who hasn't been able to keep her eyes off them when she thinks Joss isn't looking.

"What did Carter want?" Sameen asks during the graduation dinner that one of her friends organized.

Root looks around the table to make sure that no one is paying attention to them before leaning towards Sameen's ear and whispers, "She thinks my previous aliases were your ex-partners who you killed once you have no use for them."

Sameen chuckles. "Good."

"I still think she is going to be a problem," Root says. "Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But—"

"Someday," Shaw nods. "I know."

"That's why I think—"

"Nono," Shaw cuts Root off, squeezing her hand under table. "Don't even think about it."

"But—"

Sameen kisses Root's cheek in full view of Mrs Shaw.

"I know what you're doing," Root murmurs. They haven't told Mrs Shaw about, well, them, but Root suspects that Mrs Shaw already knows, which is why she thinks it's silly that Sameen forbids any kind of physical contact between them in front of her mother.

"Doesn't matter," Sameen mumbles, unable to meet her mother's eyes. "It works."

Root smiles at Mrs Shaw who is also trying hard to avoid eye contact with her own daughter. It amuses and amazes Root how similar they are despite how much they insist on the contrary.

Mrs Shaw doesn't smile back at Root, but she nods.

Root has no idea what it means, but it feels like something good. She tries to recall the arguments she prepared for her plan to divert Joss's attention towards her and away from Sameen, but they seem so far from her mind at the moment.

At the moment, all she wants is to revel in the company of the woman sitting next to her, the woman who has always been there for her.

The woman who she loves more than anything in world— more than her late night hobby, even.

Joss Carter will just have to be content with being her problem for another day.


End file.
